Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

  Pain erupted at Ash’s neck and his vision swirled. Warmth pulsed out of his throat and soaked the top of his shirt. The hands holding him fell away and he collapsed to the floor, lacking the strength to stop himself.

  Someone’s screams filled the air. Rae. He tried to speak, to tell her it would be okay, but all that came out was a bubbling gargle.

  He frowned. Other screams joined Rae’s. He forced tired eyes open and through darkening clouds he saw the commander’s angry face, talking to a hooded figure. The sight sent a shiver down Ash’s spine. A Faceless Monk.

  More Monks appeared at his side, seeming to pop into existence. Everyone else in the bar disappeared, shrinking into the shadows or melting out into the night until only the City Watch, the Faceless Monks, Ash, and Rae remained.

  “They are ours,” the front-most Monk said.

  “Of course,” the commander said. “Although that one is already dead.”

  The Monk turned and although his face was hidden by the deep hood he seemed to stare right into Ash’s soul. “He won’t survive,” the Monk said. “It’s better that way, but we will take the girl.”

  “Of course.”

  The soldiers shoved Rae forward so that she fell to her knees in front of the Monks.

  “No! Ash!” She tried to crawl toward him but the Faceless Monk lay a hand on her shoulder and she froze.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  “Ash,” Rae whispered, tears streaming down her face.

  He tried to reach out for her but his arms stayed limp at his sides. Even the effort of keeping his eyes open was becoming too much.

  “What should we do with him?” the commander said.

  “It’s of no importance. Once they’re dead, they’re the same as any other corpse.”

  The commander nodded.

  The Faceless Monks gathered in a circle around Rae and in a blinding flash of light they disappeared. Air rushed in through the open door to fill the space where they’d been, carrying an icy chill.

  The commander shook his head. “Those bloody Monks.”

  The soldiers shared uneasy looks. “Where have they taken her?”

  “None of our bloody business.”

  “What about him?” The nearest soldier nudged Ash’s shoulder with his boot.

  “You heard the Monk,” the commander said. “He’s just another corpse. We leave him there, another casualty in a bar fight as far as I’m concerned. But check his pockets; whatever he has on him is payment for our efforts.”

  He turned on his heel and marched for the door. Hands probed through Ash’s pockets and took all the coins he’d won and then the soldiers fell into line behind the commander. Some cast uneasy glances over their shoulders.

  Ash blinked but couldn’t get his eyes to open again. Each breath came as a scraping gasp that bubbled in his throat. The scent of blood filled the air and a wet puddle that he didn’t want to think about formed under his head.

  Voices sounded above him and heavy footsteps shook the floorboards beneath his face.

  “Those bloody bastards. Look at the mess they’ve made of my bar!”

  “Twins! I’ve never seen any so old before.”

  “Those Faceless Monks give me the quakes.”

  More voices crowded in until Ash couldn’t tell one from the other.

  “He’s still breathing.”

  “Won’t be for much longer.”

  “Back off, I’m getting my money back.”

  Something jostled Ash.

  “Is that all you can think about, after what happened?”

  “It’s the only thing that matters to me. Those bastard City Watch took it!”

  “Take him outside, would you? He’s bad for business.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “I’ll give you a drink on the house.”

  “Fel’s balls.”

  Hands gripped Ash’s ankles and hauled him across the floor, banging his head against uneven floorboards and table legs. The fingers wrapped around his legs felt like shards of ice and the cold seeped through his clothes.

  “You’re gonna drag blood—”

  Ash scrambled to hold onto consciousness but it pulled away and dropped him into darkness.

  33

  Searing pain burned across Ash’s flesh and tore him back to consciousness. Blood-stained snow puddled around his head and seeped into his clothes so that they clung to his frozen flesh. Agony radiated from his throat in throbbing bursts that choked each breath and made his head spin.

  He blinked and the sun moved from the horizon to high above his head. Uneven buildings surrounded him, walling him inside a rubbish-strewn alley. Thoughts came in slow circles. He’d been playing cards. Faceless Monks. Someone slit his throat. He should be dead.

  Something moved near his head and he strained his eyes upwards. A brief flash of gray fur. Rats. Maybe he was dead and they were eating his corpse.

  Rae.

  His heart dropped like a rock into his stomach and replaced some of the agony with rage. They’d taken Rae. He could still see her screaming his name, fighting the Monks.

  He swallowed and it was like a razor-blade going down his throat.

  Occasional voices sounded nearby but no one approached. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He had to find Rae, had to get her back. But to do that, he had to live. The City Watch had left him for dead but if they saw him struggling to breathe…

  Something furry and ice cold rubbed against Ash’s arm.

  Ash took another rasping breath and dragged his right arm above his head, toward the nearest wall, and scrambled for anything to grip. His nails scraped against stone, tore loose, and left bloody marks. One finger caught on a thin groove and he gripped it as if his life depended on it.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and heaved. His arm shook and stars flashed in front of his eyes, threatening to send him back into unconsciousness. He scratched and clawed to stay aware and, through sheer force of will, managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. His arm flopped back to his lap, drained.

  Ash closed his eyes and pictured the slums in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t stay where he was in case the City Watch came looking for him, but he couldn’t go far; he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stand.

  A sharp burst of pain slashed across Ash’s torn throat and he winced.

  One street would have to be enough, just out of sight of the inn. The City Watch wouldn’t question a body going missing, it happened all the time.

  Ash opened bleary eyes and gazed down the alley to the next street, an impossible ten yards away.

  Rae. He had to survive for Rae.

  He couldn’t trust himself to stand, so instead he slid, scrambled, and crawled toward the next street, using the wall as support. He stopped every few inches and lay on the freezing ground, gasping for breath and battling to stay conscious.

  Jagged stones tore through his thin pants and scraped the flesh from his shins, leaving behind bloody smears. He kept going.

  Three feet left. Two feet. One.

  He thrust out a trembling hand and snatched the corner of the building, used it to drag the rest of his body into the next street.

  Rags and animal bones lay strewn across the ground and weeds poked up between the icy flagstones. A vibrant green vine climbed up the side of the alley despite the snow, stretching up into the rays of sunlight that beat down on the upper half of the wall.

  Ash wished he could reach for the sun like that, maybe feel its warmth. Instead, he was trapped in a bitter cold that threatened to freeze him to death.

  His breath rattled and he slipped sideways on the icy wall. He fell onto the hard cobblestones and something sharp scraped his cheek but he couldn’t get up again, no matter how hard he heaved. He tugged the nearest rag closer and draped it over his quaking shoulders. It did nothing to stop the chill that seeped in from his slush-soaked clothes.

  Ash strained to open his eyes, to reach out, to call for help, but his voi
ce died in his throat and he lost his battle for consciousness.

  When Ash awoke, yellow eyes filled his vision. He gasped and drew back but his head slammed into a solid wall and stars flashed in front of his eyes. His hammering heart slowed.

  The eyes of the dead mouse didn’t move.

  Ash blinked and sat upright. Bright light filled the patch of sky overhead. The weeds all around him had shriveled, becoming dry and brown and crackling into fine dust under his touch. The vibrant green vine had collapsed down the wall, turning rotten and black. The few leaves that remained drooped toward the alley floor.

  Ash frowned and rubbed his head. How long had he been asleep? The plant had looked fine before…

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter what the plants were doing; it mattered that he survived.

  Ash’s hand fell onto something soft and squishy beside him. He snatched his hand back to find another dead mouse.

  His stomach clenched. What if the mice had crawled over him while he lay in the alley? He swiped his hands over his clothes but nothing could make him feel clean.

  His stomach rumbled as if he hadn’t eaten his entire life. Ash swallowed. Dead street mouse was not the meal he’d been hoping for. He couldn’t even consider it. On the other hand… ravenous hunger tore through him and he couldn’t help licking his lips when he looked at the mouse.

  He reached out a shaking hand and took hold of the mouse. The metallic scent of blood surrounded it, accompanied by two red trickles that dribbled from its nostrils.

  Instead of turning his stomach sour, the smell woke something in Ash, a deep hunger. Without a second thought, he tore into the mouse. Its juices ran down his chin to join those already staining his shirt.

  Ash tossed what remained of the mouse to the ground and wiped the red from his chin. Hunger still ached in his stomach but at least the desperate urge had left. He looked down at his blood-stained shirt and his throat stung.

  He reached up a shaking hand, not wanting to feel the ragged hole in his neck, but unable to stop himself.

  He frowned.

  There should have been a gaping gash; instead, he found a puckered scab.

  Panic settled in his chest, and the thought returned; he should be dead.

  He closed his eyes and pushed the thought away. The important thing was that he wasn’t dead. He was alive and well, able to hunt down the Faceless Monks, and save Rae. Save Rae. His eyes flew open. How much time did he have? How much had he already wasted? They could have killed her while he lay useless in the alley.

  He shoved himself upright but his legs quaked and collapsed like thin twigs so that he fell back to the hard road just a foot away from where he started. His face smacked against the stones, grazing his cheek. He winced and lifted his head, coming eye-to-eye with another furry, gray lump.

  He frowned. Another dead mouse. Ash turned slowly and his eyes caught on another dead mouse, and another. Beyond those, a dead rat, and all between them, dead bugs.

  His chest tightened as he pushed himself back to a sitting position and scrambled away from the dead creatures. Something crunched under his right hand. He lifted it to find the remains of a beetle mushed across his palm. He grimaced and wiped his hand on his worn pants, leaving a black line of entrails.

  Everywhere he looked, dead things, in a semicircle around him as if someone had laid them out as some kind of ceremonial offering.

  He pressed his back against the wall but couldn’t get away. A scream curdled in the back of his throat. There had to be a logical explanation.

  He closed his eyes and forced away any thoughts of the alley. He closed his ears to any sounds and his nose to the smell of rot and death. He focused on himself; his neck ached but the wound wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting. Aside from exhausted, the rest of him felt okay, the shoulder he’d dislocated while escaping Nate and Rusty didn’t hurt at all. If he managed to rest, he’d be able to walk by evening and then he could find Rae.

  Something hot burned beside his leg. He’d been too caught up in his own pain to notice before.

  His reached for his pocket and there he found Rae’s rock, still warm.

  He clutched it close to his chest and let the heat seep through his freezing body. Steam rose up off his wet clothes and created clouds around his head that smelled of blood. He swallowed down a sudden wave of nausea.

  His knuckles whitened where they held the stone but he refused to ease his grip. It was all he had left of Rae and he was determined to hold onto it until he found her. Then he’d give it back. Hot tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

  She’d tried to warn him when they were playing cards; she’d felt something out of place. He should have listened. If he’d just paid attention to her instead of his own stupid ego she might still be with him. Instead of…He refused to think about what the Monks might be doing to her.

  He had to focus on getting her back.

  No matter what it took, he’d find her, and he’d save her.

  34

  Ash’s aching stomach woke him and he opened bleary eyes to the alley, surrounded by tiny corpses. The hot stone clutched close to his chest kept the chill at bay and some of the exhaustion had faded from his limbs, leaving him tired but able to move.

  He closed his eyes. He could sense Rae, like a string attached them, but far away. She was still alive, but fear and despair rolled off of her to Ash and his heart wrenched.

  Ash gritted his teeth, a single idea and single purpose overtook every other rational thought—he had to find the Monks and get Rae back.

  He used the wall at his back to get to his feet and stood there, knees quaking. He tucked the rock into a deep pocket and took a long breath of morning air then pulled his hood up over his face and hunched his shoulders before shuffling out of the alley.

  Ash weaved through the city, out of the slums and into the Lower Trading District. He kept his head low, in case someone recognized him, and kept to the shadows to hide the blood stains that colored the top half of his clothes.

  He followed the main road to the Temple District and traveled the back alleys until he came to the familiar dark passageway beside the Faceless Monks’ Temple. There, he paused, leaning against the stone wall and gasping for breath. A new wave of exhaustion hit him, making him sway on his feet as a dark cloud flashed in front of his eyes. He grappled the wall with torn fingernails and stinging pain bit into his fingers until he managed to stabilize himself and stand straight.

  He glared at the two Monks standing in front of the temple. For all he knew they were the same ones who had taken Rae. His left hand clenched into a fist while his right reached for the knife at his belt. He tugged it free and the metal reflected bright noonday sunlight onto the opposite wall. Red rage clouded his thoughts and he strode forward, eyes locked on the nearest Monk. He reached the end of the alley, and stepped out into the bright open expanse at the side of the temple. His grip tightened on the knife, he would plunge it into the Monk’s neck and—

  “Whoa!”

  Someone snatched Ash’s shirt and hauled him back into the shadows.

  He spun, knife up, and came face to face with Tup.

  She grabbed his wrist and twisted.

  His fingers spasmed and the knife clattered to the ground. He tried to wrench free but her quick hands held him in place.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “They took Rae.” Saying the words aloud made the pain flourish with new strength.

  “So you’re going to storm the temple by yourself with just a knife and hope to find her before they catch you?”

  Ash clenched his jaw and strained harder against her grip.

  Tup swung him around, twisted his arm up, and pushed him against the stone wall, her face inches from his ear. “Will you shut up and listen?”

  Hot rage burned through Ash’s chest but he forced his arms to stop flailing and fall to his sides.

  “Good,” Tup said, stepping back.

  “You shouldn’t
have stopped me,” Ash said. “You won’t.”

  “Just listen! And if you still want to go and kill yourself, be my guest.”

  Ash’s eyes narrowed but he waved his hand for her to continue.

  “I heard what happened. Everyone did. Nate and his cronies have been dealt with.”

  “That doesn’t help me much now, does it? So much for Aldrick and his great protection. We were fine before we met you lot.”

  Tup’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Maybe.”

  “Then we’re agreed. Step aside.”

  “You won’t find her in there,” Tup said. “Even if you managed to somehow stab your way inside—which you wouldn’t—you know the kind of powers they have. She wouldn’t be there.”

  “You know where she is?” Ash strode forward and laid his hands on Tup’s shoulders.

  She pulled free. “No. But I know she’s not in there.”

  “How?”

  “I went looking of course! You’re not the only one that cares about her.”

  Ash’s shoulders slumped. “She’s not in there.” In his heart, he’d known it; the link that connected them was stretched further than it had ever been, but he’d wanted… no, needed, to make the Monks pay.

  “No. But like I said, even if she was, you’re no match for the Faceless Monks.”

  “I can’t just give up on her.”

  “I know.”

  Ash swallowed a lump in his throat and turned away from Tup, back toward the gleaming temple. “If she’s not there, where did they take her?”

  “I’ve been trying to find out. But the best I’ve discovered is rumors.”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “Vague. About a secret temple in the north.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Some of the people I spoke to said that’s where they take all the… twins… they find.”

  Ash sneered. “Aren’t you afraid to be near me?”

  “I’m not an idiot. I knew you were twins the moment I saw you.”